Aggrieve
by poriferaThief
Summary: One-Shot Songfic. Song is Aggrieve  Violin Redux . Kanaya sees a homeless violinist at her bus stop. The music she plays is beautiful; the sound gives off lyrics unlike a normal violinist would just play sound. And when they meet eyes...


Keep your eyes…

Stay they lie…

Hold dear your sight…

For it's an only privilege…

We…can only see…

The truth we believe

It's your gift…use well…

There were no words, but those lyrics fell through the girl almost as if the instrument was really just singing those exact words. The one playing it—another young, properly dressed girl—closed her own eyes, oblivious to the loud honks of the streets and the yells and murmurs of the people passing by. She strummed her violin lightly, making loud and proud sounds emanate from it. They have only a melody, but the singing seeps through those who happened to listen carefully.

The listener, one who was named Kanaya, stood at her bus stop, and then heard the song enter her mind and sap all of her attention into the cry of the instrument. The violin sang a song of encouragement, to run away from normal life and seek what you desire, however you desire. That's what Kanaya thought, anyway. It made her feel like her life was too boring, and the street performer's much more interesting. She turned…

The girl's dress was a casual sun-bleached orange, slung around it an equally saturated blue. Her shoes consisted of a bolder orange — dress shoe with small, mud-stained heels—and shone with the many colors of New York's lights and with the setting sun. Her legs were kept warm with blue stockings (they seemed barely ripping), ending at the heel but running up towards her knees, then hidden by the quietly tearing ends of the dress. The girl's short hair was held back with a blue headband, still allowing her bangs to touch her forehead. She kept her eyes closed, showing off the orange eye shadow she applied; it was faded and looked only like a mere dusting now. Her lips dried and wiped free of the lingering blue lipstick she had once put on. It was a sight of beauty living on the streets.

The violinist opened her eyes—for a split second—and the sharp, mature lavender eyes slided…and looked at Kanaya. They closed, in all deep thought, and looked upon Kanaya again. They opened wider…squinted…and closed, turning her head away back to the street. The violin stopped. For a split second, there was no more noise from the homeless street performer. All silence, it felt like the world stopped along with her music the way it ceased; Kanaya seemed surprised. Had she embarrassed her to stop? No, she probably has been doing this too much to be flushed by a watcher now. The bow never lifted, just stilled on the shimmering strings of the oak-wooded violin. For only a split second, there was no music.

It began again a moment later:

Where…is this burning emotion

You call aggrieve?

We all see, never witness

Does it hold your hands?

Does it console your mind?

Does it bring you to be insane?

I have felt the pain…

The aggrieve

My dreams all lost…

There's no more light

With the sun or the moon…

Where am I to…?

Belong…?

It was silent; to Kanaya's mind…the streets were still pulsing with sound. The violinist put down her instrument from its place on her chin. Kanaya clapped, quietly. The girl looked up at her, and smiled.

_Whisssssssssss_…The city bus peeped as its wheels lowered and people began to pile in. Kanaya got in line to pay with the other people. But she looked back around at the street performer, whom was packing up her violin. She looked in the small teapot she set out for loose change to be put in; there was none. Kanaya could tell. The girl frowned, and sighed. She looked up at the line of people getting on the bus, her eyes begging for someone to turn around, give her _something._ But she knew that everyone was struggling. These were dark times. She was about to look down when someone did shuffle out of line.

It was Kanaya.

"Take this; it's all I brought with me. I can walk home," Kanaya handed the girl her bus and snack money—four dollars and seventy-five cents. She smiled back at the homeless instrumentalist, whom quietly was handed the money in Kanaya's hand, "Your talent should be rewarded," Kanaya added.

The violinist looked at the money, then at Kanaya, and back again, "Thank you sincerely!" She said, and bowed humbly. When she looked up, Kanaya was already lost among the crowded streets of the city.


End file.
